


The Night a Dead Man Was Reborn

by ShunSakka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Anxiety, Backstory, Canon Universe, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Hangover, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Memories, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Post-Banquet, Prostate Massage, References to Depression, Self-Acceptance, Self-Doubt, Semi-public masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunSakka/pseuds/ShunSakka
Summary: Sochi Grand Prix Final BanquetVictor Nikiforov considered himself a dead man, until one single person drunkenly crawled into his life and changed it.





	1. Saving One from Oneself

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of these kind.
> 
> My version of what happened in the memorable night of the Sochi Grand Prix Final Banquet.

_L words: life and love._  
  
At the age of 27, Victor Nikiforov missed both.  
  
He didn’t usually think about those two words. The routine stole most of his time and kept his mind out of that. Skating was his life. Practicing was part of him since tender age. Sometimes, during some melancholic Russian nights, in his apartment with his dog, he wondered about what made him feel so empty. The sudden emptiness feeling would come to him with no warning.  
Indeed, he had money, yet he didn’t feel rich. He had lovers, although not love. He had a marvelous career as a figure skater, however he lacked inspiration.  
However, at some point, during his early twenties, Victor thought that he needed none of that…  
  
After winning four gold medals, Victor decided to give himself one last chance by skating to something that he _needed_ … If “inspiration” was what was lacking, he could try skating his “emptiness” away… Maybe hoping that someone would see through his choreography.  
  
Now, after becoming a living legend in the World of ice skating by winning the Grand Prix Final five times in a row, that should have been enough to fulfil himself…  
  
_… But the emptiness remained._

***

  
_Sochi Grand Prix Final Banquet_  


The night of the banquet after winning his fifth gold medal, was supposed to be like every any other fancy, social event he was used to. Meeting some coaches and other fellow skaters, talking to sponsors, sipping on some champagne and afterwards just get back to his room and return to Saint Petersburg to prepare the next season.  
What no one expected was that one Japanese skater who decided to take over the event after sinking down sixteen glasses of champagne.  
The glamorous party turned down to become a pole-dancing show, a dance off completion and a complete madness.  
  
Victor let himself being dragged to the middle of it without a second thought. The feeling was both exhilarating and exciting. Looks didn’t matter to him in that moment, he couldn’t recall the last time he had that much fun.  
The Japanese man led Victor in such way that the World around him ceased to exist. Yes, the alcohol helped a lot to be at ease, although nothing really matter anymore.  
An European man, who must have been his coach, kept calling him until a point in which the damage was already too much to be redone… Chaos took place, while his mind got lost in that _new_ sensation… However, Victor could make sense of one important thing:  
  
_Yuri._  
  
His name is Yuri.  
  
Victor has always been the distracted and forgetful type of person. He couldn’t really remember by heart the names or faces of the other competitors of the Final, except for Christophe, with whom he has been sharing the podium a couple of times and was considered a good friend by now.

The night went by as Victor couldn’t help himself but having his eyes glued to that one particular man. Holding a bottle of champagne, his raven hair a mess, his clothes going through the same process, while randomly assembling people to dance with him… Yuri Plisetsky, a fellow younger Russian skater Victor also knew, got dragged to a dance-off as well, but he seemed to be having fun for someone who was so grumpy about how tight his tie was some minutes before…  
  
In no time, Victor also realized that he had the same Japanese guy clingy onto him, basically dry-humping him.  
  
_What… Is happening._  
  
He didn’t know what to do. He should push him away, perhaps, but those chocolate brown eyes locked with his. Despite the strong smell of alcohol and sweat, those sparkling orbs made his heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Be my coooooach, Victooooooor!”, Yuri exclaims, clumsily hugging him.  
  
_Goddamn._  
  
It hit him like a freight train. Heart beating fast, stomach feeling funny, a goddamn feeling he couldn’t perfectly understand at first. The things that were missing in his life… Brought to him along with that eerie feeling that was known for keeping people alive… The _struck_. It got him right on the spot.

It became impossible to take the eyes off Yuri for the rest of the night.

At some point, the man who Victor thought of being Yuri’s coach, insisted once again in taking him to his room.  
  
“Yuri, enough of it! You will feel sick in the morning, I...”  
  
“Please, let me help,” Victor intervened, “I was going to my room anyway, I don’t mind helping him out.”  
  
“Oh, no, it’s a burden to you…”  
  
“Ciao-Ciao, you no fuuuuuun!,” Yuri cried, as he tried to stand up on his legs, while his coach held him by the arms.  
  
“No, really, don’t worry, just tell me the room number, I’m going get his clothes and bring him upstairs.”  
  
Ciao-Ciao must have been either too exhausted or too embarrassed to continue dealing with the whole messed up situation. He didn’t understand why he was offered the sudden suggestion by such famous person as Victor Nikiforov, but he was too worn out to even come up with further questions.  
  
Victor went for the lost pair of pants on one side of the room, and the black blazer on the other before returning to Yuri, turning a blind eye to the continuous judgment looks from other people still in the room… Yakov will love knowing about the banquet in the morning…  
  
Curious eyes followed every single step he took, as usual, while Chris decided that would be a good opportunity to dress himself up again. Yuri Plisetsky hissed in disgust, finding ridiculous the whole babysitting work Victor was about to do.  
  
When Victor got all the pieces together and reached out for Yuri, the drunk one was looking for a seventeenth glass of champagne, while seated on the floor, looking around randomly.  
  
“Oh, no, I think you’ve had enough,” Victor warned, as he helped the younger one standing up.  
  
Victor helped Yuri dress his pants, without bothering zipping them up, in the middle of the room, followed by the blazer.  
  
“Vitaaaaa, you´re so pretty, _kawaii desuuuu…_ ”  
  
Throwing an arm around Yuri’s waist as he threw his own over Victor’s shoulders, Victor walked out of the room in as a much steady pace as possible with a wobbling Japanese drunk man attached to him.  
  
Victor didn’t listen to any more comments, he didn’t hear any more judging whispers, everything stayed behind them as they walked to the elevators.

***

Victor pressed the number trying to hold Yuri on his feet. Once the elevator doors were closed, Yuri turned to Victor and pushed him gently against the elevator wall, as he gasped in surprise, resting his head on the older man’s chest. His heart was racing, and Victor felt like he couldn’t breathe.  
  
“Victoruuu,” Yuri began saying, in a lazy drunk tone, looking up to stare at the Russian’s man eyes, “I’ve always…”  
  
“Hum, Yuri, are you…”  
  
Yuri grabbed Victor’s tie and pulled him closer. When Victor realized what was happening, their lips were touching and they were kissing for the first time. Yuri threw his arms around Victor’s neck, as the older one pulled him closer holding his waist by instinct.  
Victor could tell that Yuri smiled into the kiss as he clumsily began moving his lips.  
  
It was a bit far from what was supposed to be considered romantic. Messy and eager, the smell of alcohol and sweat was stronger, occasionally some teeth touching… And, yet, Victor didn’t care. He let himself get drowned in that moment. He got to into that passion that everything around seemed inexistent for a while.  
  
Victor gasped when Yuri’s knee found a way between his legs. That was when he realized he was already half-hard from only making out. Shamelessly, he dry-humped the other one’s leg, holding to Yuri’s blazer for some support, while feeling his breath being taken away by the hungry Japanese man. The silver-haired one felt woozy as the alcohol in his system and heat didn’t help either.  
  
The familiar sound of the elevator reaching its floor was what brought him back to reality.  
  
“Y-Yuri…,” Victor partially groaned while saying that name, “… Here.”  
  
Victor pushed Yuri away, as he trembled one step back, mumbling something in his native language. Victor decided that picking him up would be the most efficient way to take him to the room.  
He moved down and grabbed Yuri by his legs with one arm, the other one on his back and he lifted him with some ease. Yuri complained with the scare, but hold onto Victor’s neck for support.  
  
The hall was empty as it was already late.  
  
“ _Shh, Yuri, people are already sleeping, not so loud,_ ” Victor asked since Yuri kept talking randomly in Japanese.  
  
Once Victor found the room, he struggled to open the door as Yuri kept glued to his neck.  
When finally inside, Victor used his foot to close the door behind him and got closer to the bed to laid Yuri down on it. He helped the Japanese one to take off his glasses, his blazer and his pants, in order to make him feel more comfortable.  
  
“Gosh, look at that, you’re a mess,” he said, smiling amusingly.  
  
Yuri looked at Victor and grabbed him once again by the tie, kissing the Russian deeply. Victor supported the weight of his body on the hands resting on the bed, next to Yuri’s head. The dark-haired one instinctively spread his legs to give the other man better access.  
  
Victor could feel himself getting fully hard as Yuri rocked his hips up to meet his.  
  
“ _Yu-riii…,_ ” Victor tried to say, but a moan escaped his mouth as he grinding again against Yuri.  
  
Victor cursed himself for not understanding a single word Yuri was speaking in between the lip nibbling, the messy kissing and the upcoming moans.  
In a matter of seconds, in a sudden move, Yuri used his muscular legs to grab Victor to roll over him on the bed. Victor fell on his back and tried to sit up again, but Yuri used his hand to push the other one’s chest down. He was now straddling him, legs avoiding Victor to stand up, making him feel helpless, as Yuri took his shirt off and loosed his tie even more.  
  
His cock throbbed to the sight, it was too erotic and Yuri was showing no sign of stopping when he leaned down once again to continue to kiss Victor on his mouth, cheeks, neck… Their erections touched harshly whenever their mouths met. Victor felt his underwear getting slick with precum in that moment, and he rocked his hips up to meet Yuri’s.  
  
The Russian one looked down to notice how hard the Japanese one was already.  
  
“Victor, please…” Yuri paused to suck on his neck, making Victor both relieved from recognizing the language and aroused once more, “if you… Come to Japan… My coach…”  
  
His thoughts seemed fuzzy, and Victor was going the same way. Yuri stopped to take his tie off, before continuing to mess Victor up.  
  
“Where, ugh, where were you…,” they kissed, “all my life…”  
  
Yuri added his tongue to the kissing while unbuttoning Victor’s shirt. Touching his chest, one hand caressing one of the hard nipples, and the other one unzipping Victor’s pants, as the blue-eyed one whimpered loudly. He could feel himself oozing quite a lot, he certainly blamed the alcohol for lowering his threshold that significantly, but that was nothing compared to the state of Yuri, whose underwear was completely ruined already.  
  
“Vic, you,” he moved his mouth to kiss the other one’s jaw, “y-you’re perfect,” interrupting to move to his ear next, “ _I want you…_ ”  
  
Victor knew he was a lost case when he heard that. He wanted that, he wanted him too.  
  
Yuri continued to grind against Victor, making out uncoordinatedly, both becoming a moaning mess.  
  
Victor couldn’t remember how many times he had a few drinks, came from a party, or a night out, with someone else and ended up becoming a one night stand. Forgotten names, forgotten faces, meaningless, spontaneous _love_. During all those years of loneliness, that was the only love he thought he deserved, for the life he was eternally doomed to.  
  
But his heart was beating at an incredible fast pace, and that happening even before having a Japanese man on top of him, pleasuring himself while humping on him. Whenever he heard Yuri calling his name, between the gasps and moans, lighting struck on him.  
  
He wanted more of that, feeling eager, demanding, he wanted that man to ruin him by the end of the night, until he couldn’t remember his own name. He completely let himself go with the flow, as Yuri’s hand kept exploring his hair, his face, his body at will… He turned him on so much that he thought he could even climax without being touched at all down there… He needed more.

Victor instantly decided to take his hands to grab the other man's ass… However, his hands stopped midair. Contrarily to the other times, Victor suddenly felt odd. An unexpected moment of lucidity hit him in the middle of the mess they have become.

_He couldn’t touch Yuri._

He didn’t want to… It suddenly didn’t feel right at all… No, it wasn’t right. Not when Yuri was this drunk and zoned out from reality.  
  
“Yuri,” Victor tried to reach out, as the Japanese one was kissing his neck, “Yuri, we can’t do — _AH!_ ”  
  
Victor threw his head back in a cry as Yuri rock his hip roughly against his, hitting that one spot just right. His hands returned to the bed, as he grabbed the sheets for his dear life. The friction was insane, Yuri was incredible, it’s not possible to have that much stamina after _that_ whole night.  
  
He cursed in Russian, in English, in every other language Victor could remember as their erections rubbed together, only two layers of underwear separating them apart.  
  
“Vic, Victor, _ugh_ , I love you, I love you, I always have, ah, fuck, I feel...”  
  
Yuri sit up, holding onto Victor’s shirt as he moved faster. Victor didn’t have the strength to touch him in that state, but he was enjoying the scene too much to stop Yuri now.  
  
“Yuri, Yuri, _da_ , _da_ , that, you coming? A-Are you? That’s, _fuck!_ ”  
  
He continued to thrust onto Victor a couple more times before letting out a loud gasp.  
  
Victor could feel himself extremely wet, and it was not only because of himself. He realized Yuri just orgasmed in his underwear as he was slowing down his movements against him. Although clumsily, Yuri’s climax might have been one of the hottest things Victor has ever seen. Spasming and drooling, Yuri’s erotic, blissful face will be burned in his memory for the rest of his life.  
  
Cum was flowing out, wetting both of their underwear as Yuri fell on Victor’s belly, heads resting side to side. He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.  
The hot cum on him turned Victor on even more, but he felt like he couldn’t continue. He hugged Yuri as he tried to regain his breath as well.  
  
“ _Hum, I…,_ “ Yuri mumbled, before continuing in a louder tone, “I feel sick…”  
  
Victor realized that the amount of alcohol he had drank was enough for bringing someone down.  
  
He quickly stood up and grabbed Yuri once again to take him to the bathroom.  
Once there, without second thought, Yuri fell on his knees and wasted no time in puking all of what was still in his stomach into the toilet.  
Victor sat on the floor, beside him, without looking. He felt dizzy, sweaty, his neglected erection was still aching in need, the sticky underwear wasn’t helping much either, but he couldn’t feel like taking care of that now when something else was more urgent.  
  
“Hum, sorry… I’m s-so sorry…”  
  
Yuri kept his head down, waiting for another sickness wave.  
  
“It’s okay, don’t worry, I’ll stay for a little longer in case you need anything,” caressing the other’s man back.  
  
Yuri threw up a couple more times, while Victor stood up and grabbed a towel before leaving the bathroom to give him more room. He buttoned his shirt once again and gather the clothes once more. Looking into the bedroom’s mirror, he tried to compose his hair, although his flushed, still aroused face would give him away if he happened to find anyone in his way to his room. He used the towel to wipe the cum off his underwear, groaning deeply in need as he touched his painful erection. He would take care of that later, anyway…  
  
When it looked like Yuri had finished, Victor helped Yuri cleaning himself, helped him changing clothes into cleaned ones, getting rid of the dirty ones to the laundry service of the hotel. He put the now grumpy Japanese in bed before his coach came back from the banquet. It took a bit more than Victor expected since Yuri decided that being sleepy and lazy would be of any help.  
  
After dressing himself up again and making sure Yuri was fine and in a safe position to fall asleep, Victor decided to leave, but not before taking one last look at him…

_Gosh, who the hell are you?..._

***

_Saint Petersburg_

The weeks went by normally after coming back home before the next season.  
  
There wasn’t a day in which Victor couldn’t remember that memorable night. All the things that happened back then brought to him a new light he had long forgotten… And all because of one single person.  
  
Yuri’s reaction back at the airport the day after the banquet left Victor in a sea of doubts, too confused to understand why would the Japanese man leave without saying a word.  
Was he too drunk to have forgotten what had happened? No, that couldn’t be, he sure was drunk, but the things he said were too clear…  
Maybe it was something Victor didn’t do right… Or something he said. Or because he didn’t do anything at all…  
  
A lot of questions kept coming in waves to the Russian man’s mind as the days passed by...  
Until one day, Christophe sent him a particular video that had gone viral on the Internet. Call it Destiny or just the Universe’s Calling or just pure luck…

The same song, the same words, the same choreography, the same emotions flooding through that one same specific choreography…

_The same person._


	2. Is It Desire or Is It Love that I'm Feeling for You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor left Yuri's hotel room after making sure he would be alright, but he still had something to take care of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but imagine what would happen after Victor returned to his hotel room...

Victor left the room after making sure no one was in the hall. The bulge in his pants would give him away easily so meeting up with anyone half-way to his room in that state would be just too embarrassing. If there were any security cameras along his way, well, screw them, it’s not like there’s much he could do about them.

He walked fast in the direction of the elevators, not minding at all if he was being too loud or not.  
Once there, he pressed the _up_ button several times, hoping that the elevator would reach faster… Waiting for the elevator to arrive seemed like it took ages, and the needy awareness in his pants didn’t make the waiting any easier.

He couldn’t take Yuri out of his mind, everything about that clumsy, silly, adorable, Japanese man made him craving for more. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the way he drove Victor crazy... It all made Victor wondering why was it so difficult to assimilate all of those mixed feelings together…

Was he just aroused? Happy? Drunk too?... Will he wake up tomorrow, remember this night, and not feel anything at all?...

The sudden elevator sound made Victor jolt in surprise. He slightly pull his shirt down, in a failed attempt to cover his arousal in the best way he could, as the elevator doors opened up.

No one was there except for a couple making out in one of its corners, although both seemed too busy to even mind him so it should be fine.

Victor decided to ignore them completely as he stepped in, pressed the number of his floor and kept staring at the ground, wishing it moved faster.

Finally reaching his floor, the blue-eyed man moved at a fast pace again in order to get to his room. There, Victor awkwardly opened the door and stepped in, only to be reminded that he was not alone.

“ _Blyad’!,_ ” he whispered, realizing that his coach Yakov was already there sleeping.

_The bathroom… The bathroom will do._

Going to a public bathroom somewhere in the hotel would be worse, Victor believed… At least in the room he only had to worry about one person walking in and, fortunately, that one person is profoundly sleeping and is a pretty heavy sleeper, so it should be fine.

Victor made his way into the bathroom right next to the entrance door, closing it behind him.

He took a deep breathed as he got closer to the sink...

_Tch, look at that._

Victor looked into the mirror and wished he could have been less obvious through all his path until reaching there… But the gathered arousal and embarrassment behind his blushed face were just too notorious to be hidden.

He took off his blazer, he felt hot, his throat felt dry, he was still too accelerate after what happened in the other room.

He looked down on his own reflection on the mirror before taking a look at his real self.

_Damn that Yuri for teasing him this much._

His nipples were still hard, they perked up under his shirt, in need for attention, he could feel it… Victor hesitated in touching them at first, has he ever touched them like that anyway?...

But he did.

After all, there wasn't anything wrong with it.

He took one hand to play with one of them, over the white sweaty shirt… It felt too good having Yuri playing his those before, he didn’t even have idea nipple play would feel that good.

He used both hands to rub the teased nibs over the shirt… Instead of going all the way once it for all, Victor wanted to be tormented more. He just loved that. He remembered how kinky he was for loving such things as edging and making his arousal last as longer as possible…

He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to one of the corners of the bathroom, pinching his nipples harder right after.

His cock ached in his tight pants, precum was visible through them. Victor slide a hand down his torso, never taking the eyes off his face getting more flushed at his own touch, to rub the budge over his pants, while the other one kept working on his chest.

He moaned as the sensation took over his mind, together with flashbacks of Yuri over him, sensually pleasuring himself while dry-humping him.

As the memory of Yuri assaulted his mind, Victor couldn’t think clearly anymore about what was he doing, as he clumsy unzipped his pants, letting them fall to his ankles, being kicked to his side.

His manhood still trapped in his long-spoiled underwear wanted to be released, so he carefully pulled his underwear down, becoming completely naked and realizing how soaking wet he has been all that time.  
Victor sighed in frustration, realizing he made a mistake in cleaning himself up from Yuri’s mess before leaving his room… Just thinking about the other one’s mess on him made his member twitching inside his underwear.

Victor groaned as his erection finally sprung free, meeting the cool air of the bathroom. 

It stood proudly between his legs, greatly slick with precum as Victor gave a few testing strokes to it.

His cold hand against the heated skin made his cock jerk, he really couldn’t remember the last time he was _that_ hard… Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time he jerked off at all…

How long had it been, exactly?... Weeks?... Months?... Maybe even over a year?...

After all that time neglecting what he needed, what he has been craving for, constantly forgetting about himself, and life, and love, it had been a good while since he last found the will to be with anyone or even touch himself during those lonely Russian nights.  
Apart for practicing, faking smiles and acting in front of the cameras and sponsors is tiresome and usually sleeping in seemed to be the best option to escape reality…

The Russian man decided to sit on the toilet for some support.

He began gaining more confidence as he pumped his length, his hand playing with the tip before running down his slick member, eventually going further to cradle his balls, heavy for holding on for such a long time.

The 27-year-old man spread his legs as he was seated on the toilet, speeding up the movements of his hand, stroking faster, teasing the tip. His other hand that was still taking one of the nipples between the thumb and the middle finger, went down to play with his balls, squeezing hard.  
He continuously fucked into his hand, Yuri’s movements a couple of hours before burnt in his memory, the still vivid feeling of the moment almost working as an aphrodisiac to Victor.

The anticipation that he was about to come made him cover his mouth, preventing from being loud, while the other one never stopped working on his length.

Victor threw his head back in as he whined into his hand, that wonderful vision of Yuri orgasming over him was taking over his naughty thoughts as he closed his legs tightly and came hard.  
One hand covering the tip just enough to avoid the cum splattering all over, ending up falling onto his thighs staining them white.

Victor panted harshly as his orgasm wore off, looking down after only to check the mess he has just made. He felt the blood rushing to his cheeks as he realized how hard he still was for someone who has just come.

_Damn that Yuri for making him like that…_

Victor didn’t feel satisfied with only that, he had to try something else…

The Russian kept touching his dick, carefully at first, as he still was feeling sensitive from his previous orgasm…

_Goddamnit, he wanted to be with that Japanese boy so, so bad…_

No, Victor couldn’t do it back then… Yuri was completely drunk, he couldn’t have touched him that way… Maybe in the future, who knows, if they get to meet each other again…

_Shit._

He was drunk and completely zoned out, what if Yuri had already someone in his life? Maybe even back home? What if Victor was doomed to feel these strong emotions for that man for the rest of his life all by himself?... Had he really screwed everything up big time this time?...

Even if the skeptical thoughts came to his mind, Victor’s arousal kept replacing those with ideas of making love to Yuri, taking him into his arms, looking at that beautiful face getting lost in the sensation as Victor entered him slowly… Hearing Yuri calling Victor’s name, horny for him, needy for touch, _his_ touch, as Victor gets faster, hearing Yuri moaning his name louder, completely lost in pleasure, moving his hips as he craved for more…

Victor bit back a moan as he came a second time, imagining himself coming inside Yuri, the Japanese man coming all over himself as he felt being filled up.

Coming over his chest and abs, Victor continued to milk his cock until the very last spurt came out.

Although an effort was being made, Victor was still hard with arousal.

Was it even possible to be _that_ stiff after coming so much?

Victor laid one foot on the toilet… If he couldn’t recall the last time he had masturbated, let alone the last time he had masturbated anally.

He cursed himself for not having anything he could use, nor even any lube, but his fingers would do.

His fingers were already slick enough as he rubbed slightly the pucker. The position was far from being the most comfortable one, but stimulated as he was, he wasted no time in pushing one finger inside himself, completely ignoring the pain.

He whimpered as he began moving it inside him, his free hand was brought to his mouth as he began sucking on the digits, imagining it was Yuri’s cock.

 _Shit_ , he didn’t have to imagine much, he could tell how big and hard it was from how it ached for released from Yuri’s confined underwear, how wet he was, his smell still intense in himself…

Victor would love to suck on that, checking on Yuri’s cute face drown in pleasure, his strong hand caressing his hair, and then grabbing it, pushing himself further into Victor’s mouth, the older man never stopping working on that, his hands roaming Yuri’s fine thighs ( _damn Chris for asking for that damn pole and bless his soul at the same time for having done that too_ ), until the younger one was coming inside, making Victor swallow it all, not letting him waste a single drop of it…

Victor kept sucking on two, three fingers, as a second one got through his rim.

His now untouched manhood twitched, firm and dripping for released.

Victor kept finger-fucking himself, constantly in and out, getting faster as he kept stretching himself.

What if he had Yuri inside him instead? That would feel immensely great, Victor would totally love riding Yuri hard, both becoming a moaning mess, until Yuri came inside, making Victor coming undone.

Victor opened his mouth in a silent scream as he curled his fingers and found that exact spot. The eagerness rose drastically when he remembered that whenever he has a prostate orgasm, it was a complete mess when he comes.

Victor began rubbing against that spot, quickening the pace, stroking it aggressively, as tears began forming in his eyes, the urge to be loud and being prevented to be so only made him feel more provoked.

“ _Der’mo!_ ,” he whispered with the sudden realization.

The door. It’s unlocked.

Victor forgot to lock the door and stopping midway to do it so would make he lost the pace. He really didn’t want to make himself hear, even if Yakov wouldn’t wake up that easily, just the thought of him walking in only to find Victor covered in his own mess was something he would rather not experience.

The silver-haired kept abusing that specific spot, the tension kept building up in his stomach, the anticipation that he was going to come from his ass only made him shamelessly thrusted into himself harder.

Covering his mouth once again, the sweat and tears stubbornly kept sliding down his face.  
He threw his head back again, cursing in his native language, almost hitting strongly against the wall behind, as an intense feeling went straight to his dick, making it jolt into the air.  
His eyes shot opened in a deep groan of pleasure, although he hadn’t come yet…

Did he really just have a dry orgasm?...

Yuri’s name has become his new mantra, as he kept repeating it over and over again inside his head, sometimes barely escaping through his lips.

Victor nearly screamed into his hand as a sharp sensation jabbed him, making him come.  
The first shot hit his jaw, making Victor gasp with surprise, the following ones landing on his chest and stomach. He was coming so much, spurting shot and shot, his sexual need pent-up after all of that time and sudden awakening overstimulating him to its climax.

When it finally felt like it was over, Victor gave a few strokes just for good measure, his cock finally getting soft as he relaxed his muscles.

_Holy shit... What the hell had he just done…_

Panting heavily, covered in sweat and in his own cum, Victor felt worn out, hot, but relaxed… His head felt heavy and it hurt a little, maybe the alcohol he drank before wasn’t of any help either…  
His throat felt dry as well, on contrary to his eyes, still wet in tears… He also didn’t feel like moving for a while…

_He was such an idiot… The biggest idiot ever._

An idiot for believing that that night meant anything at all…

He just had fun that night, met a cute guy, drank a lot, danced a lot, laughed a lot, the boy kissed him, a couple of things happened in the room, that’s it, done, no big deal…

_What an idiot…_

Victor felt an idiot for feeling like that… His heart kept beating fast whenever he thought about Yuri… He literally just masturbated to the thought of him, and he wondered if he will ever be able to jerk off to anything else at all.

Yuri must have his own life, right?... Maybe even a lover or so, or, at least, someone he likes or loves, why would he ever like such an _old_ Russian guy like himself, right? Probably things will be back to normal by the morning, if Victor happens to find Yuri somewhere, probably he will be ignored, that’s how things are, it wouldn’t be the first, let alone the last time things would go like that after all…  


All in all, Victor was 27 years old, with a still-promising career ahead, people expecting so much from him after winning the Grand Prix Final five-times-in-a-row, and… Seriously, would he really and suddenly fall in… _Love?..._

…

…

…

_Gosh…_

_He was such an idiot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Blyad'" - "Fuck"  
> "Der'mo" - "Shit"
> 
> I don't know Russian, so please be free to correct me if these words are not right, as well as feel free to comment and leave kudos!


	3. One Reason, Two Millions Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been years since Victor had felt like this, he isn't sure how to cope with these feelings... 
> 
> But maybe some words from the right person and a good night of sleep are enough...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few more headcanons I wanted to explore during this period at the beginning of the anime xD

_An idiot._

_A complete idiot._

Victor let himself stay seated on the toilet seat, his own cum slowly getting dry on his skin, the sweat still covering his body, his head still aching as the adrenaline was being drawn off. Blaming the alcohol for all the incoherent and overreacting thoughts was a joke because he hadn’t drink _that_ much, plus a Russian man like himself has never got to the point that alcohol would cause any discomfort or take away his rationality, apart from only lending him same silly happiness. Maybe it was just weariness, he just finished another championship and barely have had any time to rest...

_Forget him._

Excuses continuously kept popping up in his head, things he tried to make sense of, because what had happened when the two men got the room could have been predictable, though it totally felt surreal to Victor.

Victor deeply wished he could wake up the next morning and feel nothing about the night he just had, especially about that Japanese man. Though he had fun like he had never had and that short time he spent with Yuri in his room made him feel incredible in a way he couldn't recall the last time it felt like that, everything seemed too distant, too detached, too unreal.

Every time he closed his eyes, images of Yuri kept coming, burnt behind his eyelids. Overflowing with happiness at the banquet, Yuri’s eyes flickering when he looked at Victor and asked him to be his coach, the way his body moved while dancing, _pole-dancing_ , all his body gesture spoke for itself amazingly... The way he took the Russian by the tie and claimed his mouth with his lips in the elevator, provoking, demanding, and laid down on the hotel bed, spreading his legs invitingly, moving to top him, to be in control, his pupils blown from lust, his face full of bliss, and Victor's body reacting to every single touch, anticipation boiling up his blood.  
Victor’s mind was in the right place back then, though his conscience wasn’t being the best judge as it was being thrown away and quickly being replaced with instant lust.

If only Yuri was sober and willing, _oh_ how things could have been so much different...

Yet, there he was, alone, the man that stubbornly kept making notice of his presence in Victor’s mind only a few floors apart from his, probably still profoundly asleep. Victor just kept wondering how mad it could have been, wondering if there was a breaking point, his _own_ breaking point, the same where Victor could completely lose control and don't stop, the same where Yuri could break every single piece of his persona and Victor would enjoy every single second of it, completely giving himself up to pure pleasure...

_Shit, shit, shit,..._

This was tremendously stupid.

Victor woke up from his fantasy and suddenly stood up and rush into the shower. He turned the water on in one go, set it up to cold, colder, the coldest it could get. He wasted no time in putting his head under the shower, the cold water quickly wetting his hair, going down his chest and every other body part it could touch on, washing out his own mess, his sweat, and the last possible remaining of Yuri's essence that could still be present on his skin.

_Forget him._

Only mixing the memories, the fantasies, all the possibilities brought his arousal back in an instance, so easily as he was back to his teen years... One hand moved down, only to stop midair, hoovering close to his once again aching need, before curling back into a fist, moving away, regretting.  
The alienating lack of self-control over his body seemed so uncanny and too wrong. He couldn't repeat what he just did. He just couldn't let himself repeat that…  
Why was he feeling guilty for what he has just done? Because he barely knew Yuri? Because he was drunk? Because he, Victor Nikiforov, shouldn’t? And didn’t deserve this?

Or… Was he blocking his own feelings away from himself once again as always?...

Victor also let the water hit his face, his breathing still fast and erratic, the water was freezing and, though it was not uncommon to him to take a cold-water shower, he was trembling. He didn't move, he kept his fists closed and far from where his body was demanding the most, the nails piercing the skin of his hand from the strength of his grip.  
The water helped the thoughts being washed away, the gelid water against heated body was unpleasant, the water pressure against his skin started to hurt, the same way if he was naked in the middle of a hail storm, harshly hitting his skin until it stung.

_Forget him._

He placed his hands on the white tile wall in front of him, the water aiming for the back of his head, as he looked down, panting hard. Water was running down his silver hair, finding a way along his back, his lower one, continuously running down the drain, as Victor kept static.

He was shaking then.

_Forget him, goddamnit._

The unexpected long-lost sexual awakening hit him harder that he could have ever imagined. The more he tried to convince himself that none of what happened that night meant anything at all, the harder it was to swallow. It was hard to breathe, he brought his head up to let the water hit his face, hoping it could dissolve the tight knot in his throat that didn't help him fill his lungs with air.

It has been years and years since Victor finally concluded and accepted that "life" and "love" were nothing more than lost four-letter-words that were part of a dictionary. Not "living", but rather "being alive", not “loving”, but rather “being loved”, not by one single human being, but by millions of unknown faces, was enough for a legend such as himself… The World had eyes set on him, after all.

Slowly, things will begin to fade from his memory, disappearing into a bleak future in which he was doomed to focus on continuing to surprise people on the ice, neglecting himself during the process.

He surely loved the ice, he loved skating, it never took anything from him, never disappointed him at all. It was people who excepted too much from him, since a tender age, always waiting for him to make magic while dancing on his blades, sometimes making him forget about the skating he loved, and worrying more about how people would react, would expect, would think about his routines.

When he was younger, such things never occurred to him, ignorance is bliss after all... But things gradually began sounding off, he started to realize that he was chained to that life for the rest of the years...

The top of the World? It's lonely back there.

Victor finally turned the water off. He was still slightly shaking from the cold, but the arousal thoughts let him be at last.

After making sure the bathroom was clean and his dirty clothes thrown to a laundry bag, Victor stepped into the darkness of the room, to the sound of nothing else than the sound of Yakov's snoring.  
Victor went to his bag and put some cleaned briefs on, turning off all lights of the bathroom before trying to orientate himself in the room back to his bed.

When he finally got comfortable in it, he didn't feel like falling asleep. Not that Yakov's snoring didn't let him, he was already used to it, but he didn't feel like doing so. Somehow, he didn't want that night to come to an end, though nothing else was going to happen since he arrived to his bed. The Russian man had that strange sensation that by the morning everything will vanish.

His eyes finally got used to the dark and the dim light from the street outside let him see the room almost pretty clear. In a couple of hours, the sun will rise and with it memories will become exactly that, only _memories_.

Since he couldn't fall asleep, Victor decided that checking his phone would be much more useful and interesting…

And who did he want to mislead… Without realization, his fingers moved through the touch keyboard and typed the results of this year's GPF.

And there he was, Victor Nikiforov, 335.76 points, followed by Chris right after, though his eyes roamed immediately and instinctively to the end of the results table.

Yuri KATSUKI.

And then he had a name and a surname, memories and certainly a lot of doubts, but no past at all.

Victor thought that that had become a lost battle when he typed the same name that was now and far on stuck in his head and began looking for more information.

Personal background, hometown, family, skating career, victories, photos and videos popped up from everywhere…

And Victor thought Yuri Katsuki looked beautiful in all of them.

Katsuki's Instagram page was one of the first links that showed up in which clicking it sent him directly to the app. He didn't follow Yuri on it and Victor thought that doing that now would be much of a stalker... Even more of what he was being right now.

Yuri didn't have a lot of photos though, some were from what it looked like a traditional Japanese dish, others from his hometown, others from rinks he had been... He did say at the banquet that his parents owned a hot springs place, its name could be found in the localization of the photo: "Yu-topia Katsuki".  
Though, Yuri barely had one photo of himself, except from one of two with another guy.

_Why was he even doing this, he shouldn't be stalking someone like this…_

But other part of him kept saying to himself that since the information was public and available, why wouldn't he? Thousands of people followed his profile, why couldn't him too?  
That part of him wanted to find out more about Yuri, the same one that secretly feared that the information Victor would obtain from that person would fully and only from this mobile phone, never in person, let alone from Yuri himself.

His thumb trembled when Victor clicked the photo of Yuri with the other guy.

The photo of them with arm thrown over each other’s shoulders seemed to be taken in a rink, though there wasn't anything more he could conclude about it... The localization said "Detroit, United States of America"… The description didn't make anything clear, the hashtags weren't obvious, excepted for the one saying "#bf".

_Boyfriend?_

His heart skipped a beat.

It could be, why not… The silver-haired knew he shouldn't be looking for random things and jump into conclusions.

The curiosity made he look at the guy's profile. The photogenic boy was called Phichit, he was 20 years old and he was also a skater from Thailand. Contrarily to Yuri's Instagram profile, Phichit's was a flooded... And also inundated with a lot of pictures of Yuri.  
They seemed to have been living together in the USA, but little attention did Victor pay to the contents of the photos as soon as he realized that the same two hashtags always appeared in pairs, whenever the two skaters appeared both together: "#bf #bestfriend".

He breathed out... From relief.

He chuckled.

Funny… Was it really a relief? And why a relief? Why was he caring so much? Why couldn't he just convince himself that this night will be lost in time like so many others throughout his entire life.

But part of him refused to let everything go just like that…

Giving up on Instagram at last, and looking for more videos on the Internet, he searched for video after video… It was easy to find a lot of Yuri’s routines, and analyzing everything to the detail seemed inevitable to the Russian man...

How Yuri always looked tense right before entering the ice rink... How he gradually would gain more confidence when he began to land the first jumps and how things escalated when he couldn't... His jumps are amazing when he gets them right, however what's really impressive is his step sequence.  
Victor didn't have the sound of his phone on, and yet it felt like he could hear the music in his head. Yuri's body moved so gracefully and trustfully to the beat... Sometimes, so focus on every move, so full of life…

It was simply breathtaking.

He sighed.

Victor turned his phone off suddenly when the last video he was watching was over. Immersing himself once again in the now quiet room, he blamed the light from the street as burden to let him sleep, though the complete darkness would drown him once more in his own thoughts.

If only he could fall asleep right away… But the hour was no friend of him. Such hour belonged only to the lovers, the dreamers or the loners… And he felt like he was the latter.  
Whenever he closed his eyes, the same raven-haired boy appeared in form of memories...

_Darn it._

In a sudden move, Victor turned his mobile phone back on, looking for that one person, his great friend, supporter and confessor, among the so many forgotten contacts and so many past chat conversations.

_Christophe Giacometti._

 

 

Victor wished he could just call Chris right away, putting everything that happened and everything he felt was overwhelming and text words seemed not to be enough.  
Though, due to the circumstances, his fingers quickly roamed from the touch keyboard, trying not to think, but instead to feel what he felt as he kept describing everything that happened after they both got upstairs, from the elevator to the bed, from Yuri’s room to his room, including, even if implicit, how dazed he felt once he got to his room.

Putting everything into words seemed so alienate from how astonished he felt, still his eyes didn't look away from the keyboard to see what he was typing, hoping any mistakes he might have written would be understood because his fingers weren’t stopping, trying to keep up with his brain.

_Gosh… He couldn’t forget him, could he?..._

 

It took a while before Victor gave an answer back... Chris had a lot of qualities, one of done being able to read people quite easily... Or maybe it was Victor who was just too obvious around him, since the rest of the time felt like he had to act in front of other people.

Above all, without any doubts that Chris was a great listener and adviser, someone who would never judge, but would give both logical and emotional answers at the right and worse times.

Agreeing and thanking a lot to his Swiss friend, they both wished their "goodnights" before Victor tried to go for another round of useless attempts of falling asleep. Chris had a point and confusion led him nowhere. He was overthinking… What must happen, will happen, and Victor just had to be patience enough to see the outcome.

Closing his eyes, Yuri appeared in his memory there again. His heart raced.

 _Tomorrow things will be different_ , he wished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, for the Russian parts, let me know if you get anything wrong xD
> 
> Feel free to leave any comments/kudos!


	4. Reminiscing about the Ghosts from the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years have passed, but the _ghosts_ still roamed through Victor's memory...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A headcanon for an episode of Victor's backstory...

Victor tries not to think a lot about it… After all, Time is no one's friend, but it surely helps erasing some memories from the conscience. Thinking about it might kill the remaining spark that still faintly burns inside… The one that secretly still craves for anything to happen that might save him from himself.

Years have passed since that one fatal night... Though, some reminiscences stay with their owners forever, not superficially, but deep within in the unconsciousness, sometimes to the point that they demand to be manifested in a form of a dream.

During his teen years, Victor Nikiforov started to feel like something was _missing_. 

At first, when he was around fifteen years old, he started to forget things randomly. Mostly meaningless things, like something he forgot to buy on his way home or the name of person he had met before. It manifested in ways impossible to make notice, mostly for its lack of substance… After all, everyone forgets something once in a while.

The second time, when he was sixteen, he caught himself with the same eerie feeling, one afternoon he was seating home, finally laid down on the sofa after a week of intense training. It was a Friday night and his thumbs were still hovering over the touchscreen of his phone, after declining a friends’ dinner without a second thought. As soon as the message was sent, it was the moment when he realized how hard it felt to do anything else, or even anything he truly enjoyed doing, apart from skating. Skipping friends' meetings, other events, slowly losing interest in things he liked and used to do... Gradually and less frequently, his hobbies began to turn into a burden, social gatherings became tedious, eating was only because it was necessary and his home had become his refugee. His loyal dog, Makkachin, came into his life and without any doubt that Makka quickly became his biggest companion, and one of the reasons that helped Victor not giving up right there back then.

When he turned seventeen, the third-time things notoriously seemed off was when the nightmares became a habit in his sleep schedule. Victor has always been the kind of person who doesn't usually remember his dreams, and he wished that could have been the same back then. The bad dreams began coming spaced from each other throughout the nights, but quickly the time gap between the restful nights and the trouble ones began becoming shorter and shorter...  
Every single night, during that period, whenever Victor went to bed, he couldn’t help but wondering how the night would turned to be like.  
It felt like a Russian Roulette, making him feel completely oblivious and powerless against what his brain had reserved for each night.

Overall, the nightmares were different from each other, but some usually repeated... And every single time they felt surreal. Things would either start off well and end up in a tragedy or it would be disastrous from the very beginning.

One of his routines would began greatly, before things started to go off, the music erratic, the audience gone silent, the air thick, until the ice shatter and swallow him whole.  
In another one, his jumps would end up terribly, like he forgot how to skate... Sometimes he felt heavy, like he had chains attached to his ankles, to his wrists, to his neck, weighting him down, not letting him move freely, let alone making jumps.  
Sometimes he couldn't breathe at all. Even trying to make every single effort to fill his lungs with air, he couldn't. It was suffocating, asphyxiating to the point that he would wake up in a sudden move and gasp desperately for air.  


The fourth and last time Victor realized he was doomed to live without knowing life and without knowing love was that one night, after he turned eighteen, when he came back home, went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror…

_He couldn't recognize himself._

Indeed, there was a reflection… But who was that boy, who did he do for a living, what kind of human being was him? There were the same icy blue eyes, the pale skin and long platinum hair… A true aesthetic image for most people, despite the dark circles under his eyes. It felt unreal, looking at an image of someone he has seen countless times, and still had no idea of who that person was… Like he had some kind of amnesia, an odd feeling that made him want to look away and avoid his own reflection forevermore.

It was frightening... Inexplicable, but completely _terrifying_ at first.

Then, he could only stand there and look into the mirror, thoughtless. No tears had fallen, no anxiety had taken place… Only that now-so-familiar feeling of _emptiness_ that soon began to be a constant in his life… And slowly the Russian athlete stopped questioning whenever a mirror showed a reflection that it felt like it didn't belong to him.

There were too many questions, and no answers at all.

Victor decided to continue doing the things like he was supposed to… It has always been easy to him to act under the spotlight, after all... Though, deep inside, the doubts remained, all ravel together, impossible to dissolve that knot they created.

Makkachin was the only living being that knew Victor's true feelings... Apart from his dog, and for knowing him for a good while, Yakov understood something was off, but chose to leave Victor act as he felt like doing so.

A while after turning sixteen and winning the Junior Grand Prix Final Championships, Victor met Yakov Feltsman, who was going to be his coach in the Senior division and with whom he was going to live with. Yakov is that type of person that seems to be grumpy all the time, and that gets annoyed easily, but he is a great man, and one of the best men Victor has ever met. To the point of treating his pupils practically like his sons and daughters.

Yakov, more than being a great coach, he was also a father figure. During practices and events, they kept a professional relationship. Outside the ice rink, Victor confessed he could trust Yakov with whatever he needed. Although cranky, the old Russian man loved his students.

When he was eighteen, Victor moved to a new apartment along with Makkachin, and the time he had alone, it was also the time he always caught himself in the same existencial thoughts.

Time really helped cleaning his mind up from the memory of those days, _attenuating_ it, though it wasn’t forgotten… It never will be forgotten.  
The silver-haired man still could tell the story by heart… The story of the night he snapped completely… The same one that have been playing over and over in his head, for years and years in a row.

Some days, he tried his best to deceive himself into thinking about whatever felt wrong with him… Other days, he would just and totally sink in it.  
He has always loved to skate. There was no doubt that the ice belonged to him, everyone one could tell it… But Victor kept wondering if he belonged to somewhere else…

No one would have guess what was going through his mind… Victor has always known how to behave in front of certain people, or in certain occasions. However, more and more it had come to be a burden… To the sponsors and interviewers’ eyes, he was an athlete of excellency, a promising rising star since a tender age… To his fans, he was an example to follow, somehow to cheer up for. And, yet, with years passing by, the emptiness kept growing within… And no one could ever tell it.

Victor never lied about his feelings or intentions to the public whenever questions he felt like not answering popped up... He just never entirely told the truth either.  
Things never are the way they seem to be, neither are people… After all, off camera, Victor was not a winning-machine, he was only a human.

At night he snapped, was the night he got rid of his hair.

It was an impulse, something unpredictable even to him... Maybe it was just an act of rebellion, a need to manifest, to change, to become someone different, to somehow separate a reality from another.

Back then, the media reported it as Victor _"wanting to try a new look"_ , which, there it was, it wasn’t a lie, though it wasn’t entirely true either.

That long silver hair of Victor’s had become an icon in the World of figure skating, giving the young Russian both a male and female appearance. The _illusion_ , was already a symbol to millions of fans worldwide, and the episode of its disappearance was considered a lost to the World.

That fatal date went by as normal day at practice and, in fact, a very good one in which Victor practically excel every single jump he made during it. It was also a day it started to rain, against weather previsions, getting an unprepared Victor soaked on his way home.  
Once finally home, he did his normal routine. He took care of Makkachin after both went for a walk (Makka has never complained about the bad weather), took a shower, had dinner, and went to bed not long after…

And it was one of _those_ nights.

Makkachin made him envious for being so profoundly asleep. On the contrary, Victor had trouble in falling asleep, taking him at least three hours before he could do so… When he finally did, waking up intermittently between nightmares was degrading. At some point, he just gave up. Staring at the ceiling as thoughts haunted him, some of them he wasn't even sure if they were real or any trick from his brain… Things seemed off somehow and he started to get anxious until Victor was panting, his chest felt too tight, he was suffocating like he was in the nightmare he had just a while ago…

_And then, it happened._

He stood up in one go and went to the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors.

_It was impulsive, automatic, thoughtless._

Going to the bathroom, he didn't even dare to look into the mirror, he just knew that there was a reflection of a person he didn't know and desperately wanted to separate himself from it.

The promising star didn’t hesitate as he grabbed a hand-full of his own hair and gave it its first cut.  
The only sound audible across the house was of the scissors running through his hair. Silky threads fell to his feet, cut after cut…

He felt like he _had to_ do it. 

Maybe by doing so he would find a new identity and begin anew… Maybe getting rid of that would also cut the chains and finally detach him from a World he didn’t want to be part of anymore.

He cut it all in one go. The scissors didn’t stop moving until he felt like stopping, as his hair got shorter and shorter…  
At some point, he felt relieved, as his hair felt too _heavy_ and feeling it falling and tickling his back in every go felt weirdly satisfying.  
When he finally was done of cutting all he felt like getting rid of, that sensation didn’t last long…  
Looking into the mirror carefully, hoping to find a new answer, he saw _nothing_ once again and more.

Guilt rose faster than he could have imagined… And, with it, tears formed in his eyes… His vision getting blurred quickly, his cheeks feeling hot, his head going dizzy from exhaustion, stress, sleep deprivation, from his still present anger while cutting his hair, from frustration for _that_ cursing emptiness feeling that haven’t left along with his fallen silver hair.

His blurred vision let him look at the floor and spot those platinum strings on the black mosaic floor, his tears falling finding space among those threads of hair… Looking back into the mirror, the reflection that appeared on it was of a young man, looking terrible, ridiculous. His hair was above his shoulders, uneven from being too poorly cut, his face red and eyes puffy from crying.

He didn’t have a concrete reason to feel this way, had he?... He had a good life after all, why did he feel that way?... Why did it always feel like something was missing?...

The next day, Victor was the first showing up at practice. The extensive crying and lack of sleep that night, adding the hair still left untouched spread in the bathroom floor since he cut it off, made him want to leave his apartment very early.

Yakov has always been an early bird, meaning he was always one of the first or maybe even the first person showing up at the ice rink to prepare the practice every day.  
Victor wondered how Yakov would react to that sudden transformation… He was prepared to be yelled at, scolded hard, and also be reminded of how he just threw away something as famous as his hair and how everyone will react, from sponsors to fans worldwide… He also wondered why did it even matter after all… It was one of the very few times he made a decision for him, even if it was an impulse… No one should have the right to criticize anything…

Victor was randomly skating on the ice as he kept thinking of it, heart pounding in his chest…  
That was when he heard someone arriving at the rink. The heavy steps echoed in his ears, above the sound of his blades sliding on the ice. He stopped to looked at the entrance, once he felt someone's eyes on his back.

It was his coach.

And Victor failed in trying to judge his coach’s expression. Open-mouthed, eyes wide in disbelief, Yakov didn’t say a word for a couple of seconds.

Surprised? Mad? Shocked? Was he going to crucify Victor for having done anything such thing?

Looking at the young boy static in the middle of the ice, such a calm and angelic figure at first sight, though looking closely he seemed completely beaten… Pale, with bags under his eyes, his hair terribly askew… Tears returned to Victor's eyes without falling… The idea of being scolded, followed by the fear of rejection brought the guilt back.

However, Yakov still said nothing.

The older Russian man recovered his composure at last and opened his arms calling Victor into a hug, gesture that made Victor started crying for real the moment Yakov did that. He slided to Yakov’s arms, the same that involved him and hold him tightly.  
Victor finally allowed himself to have a good cry like he needed in a long, long time…

They left the rink before people started to appear… After that, Yakov didn’t make any question about what had happened... He didn't know why Victor got rid of his hair like that, maybe he truly never will, maybe he believed he didn’t have to, or maybe he understood the reason of why since the he laid his eyes on that ethereal image of a fallen ice angel... Deep within, Yakov knew that if Victor ever wanted to talk, he would do so… And in that moment, he really just had to cry.

They both skipped training that morning. Yakov let everyone know that he will be absent in the morning and took Victor to a hairdresser to adapt that _new_ style to anything Victor felt comfortable with… And Victor felt glad from having such man in his life.

Yakov told his pupil that he could stay at his apartment until Victor felt like going back to his own. The younger male then took that day and the next one to rest, finally recovering some hours of lost sleep…

Of course, the following days were filled with people asking what had happened whenever they saw Victor for the first time since his hair got reduced to the current length. His colleagues from the rink, the people he came across daily, his international friends, the whole World basically… And every single time, he always came up with the same excuse:

_“I needed a change.”_

Which, there again and once more, it wasn’t false… But the _change_ still hasn’t hit him.

Rumor has it, Victor Nikiforov wanted to surprise people once more, this time even _out_ of the ice.

The days went by like so many others. _Life_ as he knew stayed the same. _Love_ was nowhere to be found… They were only words, after all…

 _Empty_ words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: back to the main plot.
> 
> I hope you liked it! Feel free to leave any kudos or comments!


	5. The Turns of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and that one encounter no one expected for...

Waking up some hours later was hideous. His head felt funny, his body still felt worn out, his eyes refused opening. It certainly wasn't the most restful night he has ever had, but at least it was dreamless… Having dreams of any kind would always make Victor even more worn out…

Even with the lack of sleep, Yuri was whom immediately crawled into his morning thoughts. Victor hasn't even opened his eyes, and the Japanese man had already assaulted his mind… This time though, Victor just remembered last night, as he pictured themselves playfully dancing together at the banquet. He had fun like he had never had before and it was a shame that time had no mercy for the most amazing moments… Good moments always goes by way too fast, after all.

His heart raced as he finally opened his eyes to the thought that he might bump into Yuri somewhere on their way until the airport. Finally gathering his forces to wake up, Victor stands up from his bed. There was too much light in the room coming from the outside and, though he was only wearing briefs, it also felt too hot.

He noticed that Yakov wasn't in the room, he must have gone ahead to have breakfast and let Victor sleep. It wasn’t very late, he could tell, but it wasn’t early either… If he got going, he would be able to still make it on time to have breakfast before it closed.

The silver-haired man got a cleaned white t-shirt, his pair of jeans and the Russia Federation's white and red sweater. The championship was over and there was no need for him to dress fancily. Plus, those clothes were pretty comfy.

Going to the bathroom, he cleaned his face with cold water and tried to take care of his messy hair the best way he could… He was trying his best to act normal, while Yuri made his appearance in his memory, even if Victor tried to distract himself from it. Last night was overwhelming, from the beginning until he got to bed… _His_ bed, to be clear.  
He also couldn't help but wonder if Yakov heard him in the bathroom last night or if he found any evidence Victor forgot to clean… Knowing Yakov, he probably wouldn’t mention anything even if he had found out…

Well, if Victor just takes everything casually, it should be good.

Finally getting fully dressed up, he left the room with nothing but only the card key.  
His heart was still beating fast, just the mere fact that he might come across Yuri right there in the elevator was maddening. It felt ridiculous, but Victor was so grateful that he was able to feel this way once again in his life.

But he didn't.

As the elevator reached his floor and took him downstairs to the breakfast floor, there was no sign of the Japanese man.

Entering the room, after mentioning his room number to one of the employees, he screened the room right away hoping to find Yuri somehow, also up for a late breakfast.

But he didn't.

However, he found Yakov, having coffee and reading the newspaper in one of the tables, to which he gladly decided to join. 

" _Morning, coach!_ ," Victor exclaimed, in English, greeting him with a foolish smile.

"Vitya," Yakov Feltsman answered, and not bothering in switching to English, he continued to speak in their mother tongue, "So, tell me… I found a couple of people from the organization, and they commented that last night was... _Different_."

“Oh, was it?,” Victor laughed, he knew that Yakov acted like a grumpy old man but in fact he couldn't stop wondering about what had happened while he was asleep.

“I wasn’t the one at the banquet, you know…,” Yakov insisted.

"Well, I guess there was this," Victor brought a finger to his lips, before continuing, " _gentleman_... From the GPF that decided to turn the party into a… Let’s say, a less tedious event."

Yakov looked at his pupil with a quizzical expression, before grinning back the newspaper he had on his hands. That made Victor realize that he could imagine what Victor had been up to.

Victor assured him that he had fun and everybody left party unharmed, to which his coach simply nodded and smiled.

The blue-eyed one went to get some breakfast afterwards, since he was hungry and it would help to overcome the slight hangover he was feeling. He got generous portions of what the hotel buffet had to offer, maybe more carbon hydrates than he was used to, but he has just finished a competition and he just wanted to pig out as much as he could.

Joining his coach back at the table, Yakov was still carefully reading the local newspaper he had asked to the waiter. The room had some other guests, most looked like tourists and little people seemed to be from the competition.  
Victor recognized the Italian competitor that got in fifth place at the GPF for having been looking for Yuri through the Final's photos. The young lady looked like him, she must be his sister, while the man with them should be the coach. There were some younger people, maybe from the Junior Championship, but no sign of Yuri Plisetsky, or his friend Chris, let alone the one Japanese boy he was craving to see.

"Vitya, about the next season...," Yakov was always a man that wanted things ready for "yesterday", even when the competition has just finished, "are you planning on doing the theme you last suggested?..."

Victor had a bite of his still warm scrambled eggs, taking his time to chew and swallow all of it.

" _Nyet,_ " he denied, "I want to change it."

Yakov moved his eyes from the newspaper in admiration. Victor kept his eyes on the food on his plate, though he came up with the idea just now.  
Victor enjoys finding new themes that speak to him and he always have some of them in mind that could come handy to any routine. There was one that popped up in his mind the moment Yakov asked about next season.

"Really? I thought you had already decided about the other one?"

"I have, but I've changed my mind overnight," he confessed, without hesitation, "I want to skate to _In Regards to Love_."

Yakov looked at his student eating, waiting for some kind of justification for the sudden change.

"What did make you change your mind?"

 _Yuri Katsuki did_ , seemed to be the most suitable answer, but it was also something he didn’t want to explicit admit right away. Victor still had doubts, yet he decided to follow Christophe’s advice and let things roll as things go on, giving himself an opportunity to find a new way in his life.

"I would like to skate to it, that's all."

"To _Agape_?," Yakov asked, clearly remember the nature of the piece, since they have commented about it sometime before.

"Or _Eros_...," Victor said, unsure, "I still haven't decided... I'll choreograph both and then make a choice."

Yakov nodded and made no more questions. He knew that Victor always liked to skate to programs that spoke to him, and he adored waiting and see what was the outcome, and then conclude whatever he felt from it on his own.

Like the rest of the World, Yakov also enjoyed being surprise by Victor.

"We leave at noon," Yakov said.

***

Mornings had no mercy for Yuri Katsuki… They never had and they never will.

The light of his room was being too unkind for his taste. He felt comfortable in the hotel bed, especially when his head seemed to be protesting about getting up…

He was dreaming right before waking up, he was almost sure… He couldn’t tell about what exactly though… He felt warm, a pair of lips on his own, a pair of arms around his waist… Was it Victor? It was difficult to remember, but it could be… Victor was no stranger to his dreams after all… From the most realistic memories Yuri had from seeing him on the social media, to his wildest sexual fantasies, the Japanese had always welcomed Victor into his dreams.  
This time, he tried to remember about what was he dreaming about, but as soon as he woke up, the images just faded away as his head protested in pain…

Against his head’s demands, he opened his eyes and the first thing he noticed was that he could tell from the blurry image he got that Celestino wasn’t there…  
And judging by the aggressive sunlight invading the room, it should be quite late too… He stayed lazily a few more minutes in his bed…  
Eyes closed, head resting on the pillow, the Japanese man tried to make sense to things that stubbornly seemed like they weren’t getting through… Until a sudden strike of that so familiar nervous feeling stroke back.

_Right… The Final…_

Things seemed to shatter inside right there and then. His body felt too sore, his anxiety hit back, along with the feeling of embarrassment… How he humiliated himself in live television, in front of so many people… _In front of Victor_.

How could Yuri talk to him at the banquet after that? Yuri just wanted to lock himself up in the room, but Celestino insisted that going to the banquet would make him feel better… It really didn’t feel like…

Wait…

_Had he gone to the banquet at all?_

Yuri stood up and sit up straight in bed. His head protested immediately, as it felt too light and the room seemed to be whirling in a second. Yuri covered his head with his hands until the spinning sensation went away.

No, Celestino did insist on him going because he was depressed, he wasn’t imagining things… And for him to feel dizzy like this, without any doubt that he had drunk at the banquet… Was it wine?... Champagne maybe?... It had to be, there were a lot of waiters serving champagne… And there was a lot of people… And what he did… There was… _There was…_

…

…

_Nothing… There was a blank._

Yuri made a last-ditch effort to remember any of the details from the previous night… But apart from the image of himself holding a glass of champagne, there was nothing else at all…

It wasn’t the first time that he had a blank in his memory after drinking so much… Actually, it’s practically a “Katsuki curse”, since his dad had the same memory loss and Yuri remembered that the same has happened to his sister at least once.

Yuri looked under the bed sheets once he realized he wasn’t wearing what he normally wears when he sleeps. He couldn’t recall how he got into those clothes… They weren’t the ones from the banquet, but they also weren’t part of his t-shirt and shorts set for sleeping… He would never wear those briefs and shirt to sleep, though they were clean. Maybe he was so drunk that he came to the room and changed to the first thing that was on his bag… Or maybe Celestino brought him up and help him dressing up…

Yuri covered his face with his hands, letting out a frustrated groan.

_Ahhhh, it’s so embarrassing._

He jolted in surprise when he heard the loud clicking of the entrance door of the room. He looked closely to the entrance, thinking how Celestino would talk him the morning after the banquet. He also tried coming up with every excuse he could think of to explain himself to his coach.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Celestino noticed, stepping inside the room, “I thought you would want to sleep a couple of more hours so I didn’t wake you up for breakfast.”

Judging by his reaction, Yuri thought that maybe last night wasn’t so bad… He hoped so.

“Ah, hum, thanks, coach…,” Yuri said.

He tried to look completely fine, though the confusion and discomfort in his head weren’t helping much.

Celestino went to the bathroom, Yuri heard the tap being turned on and the water running while he was there.

“ _What a night, uh?,_ ” Yuri heard him saying from inside the bathroom.

He froze.

It totally ran in the family after all, the after-night-of-alcohol-amnesia was not new to him. So, for the rhetorical question, it was practically official that Yuri got drunk last night for sure and it must had been a catastrophe.

His breathing began to accelerate... What a shame it must have been…

Celestino got out of the bathroom, going for his trolley to pack a couple of things.

“The night?...,” the Japanese one asked.

“I’ll admit it, at first I was worried about you, but then Victor and others joined—“

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Things had really happened last night after all and Yuri felt so uncomfortable right now… He decided right there and then that he didn’t want to know anything about it.

“Are you okay? Did something happen when you both—“

“Coach, I’m fine, I don’t want to talk about it, please!,” Yuri insisted once again, secured of his decision now.

Catching his breath was becoming difficult. He feared that he could freak out completely from even imagining what had happen the night before… So he was sure that he didn’t want to know anything at all.

Celestino respected that… He have known Yuri for quite some while and he knew how Yuri reacted when he was nervous… Insisting in going to the banquet was already too much for Yuri…  
The Italian coach then left once again to stroll around the hotel and meet up with some fellows once more.

Yuri, on the other hand, had a decision made and he thought it to be the best to overcome his thoughts and anxiety. He turned off the notifications from every app, the internet, even the mobile phone… For a while, he decided that he didn’t want to know anything about what had happened in Sochi.

It was better if he never finds out about it anyway…

***

Not only the intercontinental flights, but also the domestic Russians flights were scheduled at night. After the banquet, the organization realized that getting everyone sober, ready and on time in the morning would be horrifying.

Victor, Yakov, Yuri Plisetsky and other members left the hotel to the airport with time to spare. It was frequent to have journalists waiting at the entrance of the hotel, or at the airport, stalking the skaters until the very last minute.  
That said, usually it's okay for Victor to be surrounded by them. Some talk here, a wink there, waving, smiling, just giving people what they want like he was used to after all… The day after the banquet, it was no different, though it felt ten times harder to personify that character.

His mind was still too full... Even if he has been to Sochi before, Victor didn't really leave the hotel for the rest of the day. He didn’t feel like doing so…  
He kept his hopes high, thinking of what if he found Yuri at the hotel, what would he say, what would Yuri say, or react… What if Victor is making all of those hypotheses and, in the end, he never gets the chance to see him again...

Victor had even decided to go back to Yuri's room and check on him, but no one was in there at that time.  
He also talked to Chris once again, about how he didn't find Yuri and what should he do… Though, his Swiss friend kept loyal to the advice he had given to Victor, reminding Victor to stop looking for a way to create a chance to meet up with the Japanese one. So, Victor didn't insist after that one try, since it made him feel like a stalker and he thought that if Yuri wanted to talk to him at all, he would do so anytime...  
After all, there's always the Internet... Yuri could contact him anytime…

"Oi, Victor…”

That brought him back to reality.

Yuri Plisetsky was right beside him. With his hood over his head, the blonde bangs unable to cover completely his mad expression, his green eyes craving for attention.

“Yakov must be waiting for us already.”

Victor sighed and then nodded. Maybe he should get himself distracted… With his head somewhere else maybe he would be able to forget about him.

As they both walked to go find Yakov, Victor took the chance to think about something else. He remembered that he had watched the other Russian competitor‘s performance at the Junior Grand Prix Final… His jumps were amazing, but after spending quite a long time watching the Japanese Yuri old performances on the Internet, there was clearly something he was able to point out about Plisetsky.

“Yuri,” he began, strangely finding it familiar to call out for that name for a second, “about your free performance, the step sequence could use more—“

“I won, so who cares?,” the blond one says, “quit nagging, Victor.”

“Hey Yuri!,” probably everyone near could have heard Yakov yelling, “you can’t talk that way forever!”

And then it happened in a moment… It didn’t have a reason to be...  
There was no one calling for him, or there wasn’t any logical reason to turn around… But Victor did so, once he felt a pair of eyes glued on his back.

He turned around.

It took less than one second between feeling the tightness on his chest and trying to come up with something in-character to break the ice right there and then… 

Anything… Anything at all would do.

“A commemorative photo?,” Victor asked, “Sure.”

Yuri gasped in surprise. He couldn’t believe Victor had actually talked to him… Actually, he didn’t want to.

All those years since he was a little kid he tried to imagine how their first conversation would go… But he didn’t excepted things to be this way, right after he lost miserably at the GPF, humiliating himself the way he did.

_No… He didn’t want it._

Yuri didn’t want to talk to anyone at all, even if that person was his childhood idol… He was sick of the embarrassment and his anxiety would make everything worse if he was to talk to Victor.

Yuri turned away, without saying a word, leaving Victor hung in the moment… Life and Fate do take a lot of turns, but some are never in one’s favor…

To Victor, the ice did break, but it shattered right beneath him instead… Who was Victor to call out for Yuri at that moment?... His fame, looks, world champion titles didn’t mean anything right now. He had no right to call out for Yuri if he didn’t want to see him.

Maybe last night was really a mistake… Maybe it really meant nothing at all…

And maybe Victor was once again doomed to his own loneliness, as that only hope he had for finding life and love in some way turned his back and moved away, uninterested, uneasy, unmercifully…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments always make my day!

**Author's Note:**

> First contribution for the fandom... I hope you enjoy it!


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